


Forever (and always)

by fortytworedvines



Category: Holby City
Genre: Coffee, F/F, Fluff, happy ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/pseuds/fortytworedvines
Summary: Various ways in which Bernie and Serena are living a quiet and contented life together. For eternity.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 48
Kudos: 141
Collections: The Final Countdown





	1. Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Fics written for the Final Countdown event

On the morning after Bernie returns from Nairobi with a signed contract for a new post at St James' safely in her pocket, she wakes up early.

She’s made or bought a lot of coffee for Serena over the years. In the early weeks of their friendship, coffee meant: _I noticed you look tired, I hope this helps_ ; _I hope we can be friends_ ; _Yes I have left hours of paperwork for you to do, I’m sorry_. Later on it meant _I love you_ , even before she’d said the words out loud.

Now she slips out of bed without turning on the light; she doesn’t want to disturb Serena’s sleep. They’d been up late last night, celebrating her return in more ways than one  (her thigh muscles are sore this morning) and she wants to surprise Serena with coffee in bed.  


The lights are already on when she reaches the kitchen. She stops in the doorway to watch Serena, who is standing at the stove, humming to herself, as she fries bacon and eggs. The coffee machine is on too. It all smells wonderful. It smells like home.

Bernie leans against the doorframe and feels lighter than she has done in months. How silly she was to stay in Nairobi after Serena left. This is all she’s ever wanted. She must make a sound, because Serena whirls around, spatula in the air.

“Bernie!” Her smile lights up her whole face. “Will you make more noise please?”

Bernie catches her, slips her arms round her waist, pulls her in close, presses a kiss against soft, eager lips. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I was trying to surprise you.”

“Spoil me, more like.” Bernie lets go of Serena so she can flip the bacon, but keeps one hand possessively on her waist. “I was going to make you coffee.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” Serena says, and Bernie can hear the smile in her voice. She drops her chin to rest on Serena’s shoulder.

“So there is.”


	2. Taste

There are many, many things that Serena appreciates about Bernie, but her taste is the one that’s seared itself into Serena’s mind. When they’re apart, Serena finds herself dreaming hazily of blonde curls and long legs, with the vivid taste of chocolate and honeycomb on her tongue. And like a fine wine, the taste is only improving over time.

It makes Bernie laugh, whenever they reunite, how eager Serena is to kiss her, to remind herself of the taste of every inch of Bernie’s body. She’s not complaining though.

“Anybody would think I’d been away for weeks,” she says, running a caressing hand through Serena’s hair, “Not a two day conference in London.”

Serena lifts her head from her lazy exploration of Bernie’s thighs. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Bernie tugs Serena up, kisses her hungrily. “Still the same?”

“Mmm. Better than ever.”

“I’m glad I can provide you with so much empirical evidence.”

“It’s an ongoing study.”

“For how long?” Bernie asks with a smile.

“Forever, don’t you think?”  


“Oh, I do.”


	3. Dirt

There’s a weight pressing her down. She can’t move. Dirt in her mouth. Everything hurts. She opens her mouth to scream but finds no air, only more dirt filling her mouth. She can’t breathe. The heat and the pressure are tremendous. Her heart thrums in desperation, as though it knows it only has so many beats left. A tiny whimper escapes her.

“Bernie!”

Somehow, she manages to turn her head towards the voice. 

“Bernie!”

With a vast effort she opens her eyes, and looks straight into Serena Campbell’s concerned face.

“You’re safe darling, I’ve got you.”

The weight is only the duvet and the heat is that of a British summer. She forces her tongue to work around the lingering memory of a mouth full of dirt. “Nightmare,” she croaks. “Sorry.”

Careful hands help her to sit up, pass her a glass of water. She swills it gratefully.

“Don’t be silly Bernie. You don’t ever have to be sorry. Where were you?”

“Mogadishu.” Bernie’s heartbeat is returning to normal now. She manages a small grin. “You know what they say; to be blown up once is an accident, twice is foolishness.”

“Do they?” Serena strokes her hair, fingers teasing through blonde knots, a soothing caress. 

Bernie leans into her touch. “There won’t be a third time.”

“There better not be, Major,” Serena says, “Mogadishu was too close for comfort.”

“At least it brought me home,” Bernie says, “Brought me to my senses and back to you.”

“It brought me to my senses too. But I’d rather not rely on such drastic events next time we have a disagreement.”

“Next time?” Bernie raises her eyebrows, “What do you mean, next time?”

“There are plenty of things for us to argue about. The washing up, for instance.”

All traces of nightmare have faded now and Bernie laughs. “Whose turn it is to make the coffee.”

“Exactly. And it’s your turn in the morning.”

“Is it?” Bernie puts her glass on the bedside table and snuggles back down into bed, holds out her arms to Serena who slips into them with a happy sigh. “Better get some more sleep then.” Serena’s hair brushes Bernie’s face and she smiles, strokes it away gently. “Sweet dreams, Serena.”

Serena’s only reply is a tired hum. Bernie tightens her arms around her wife,  knows that the nightmares will be held at bay for the rest of the night.


	4. Barn

It’s a beauty spot in the summer but right now the wind is whistling and the waves are pounding the shore relentlessly, throwing up great plumes of spray. Bernie watches the two reckless surfers who are taking advantage of the rolling waves and the empty seas, and shivers in sympathy.

“Here you go.” A gentle hand presses against her back and she turns to smile at Serena, who comes bearing coffee.

Serena joins her at the window, looking out over the deserted cove. “Oh, they must be freezing,” she says as she spots the surfers.

“I wouldn’t want to be out there today,” Bernie agrees, “I’m quite content to stay indoors with a roaring fire and a cup of coffee. And you,” she adds, leaning against her wife.

It’s something of a tradition now, their weekend getaways to converted barns all over the country. In the beginning it was an excuse to spend hours in bed but these days they’re just as likely to be found curled up on the sofa together, coffee or wine in hand, indulging in remembrances and quiet times and simply cuddling without the interruption of children and grandchildren. This  particular barn , found by Serena, stands on its own on a cliff overlooking a beautiful Welsh beach.  It’s secluded and perfect.

“You’ve mellowed in your old age,” Serena says, slipping an arm around Bernie’s waist and tugging her away from the window, back to the sofa and the fire. 

“I’ve never fancied surfing.” Bernie follows Serena, curls up next to her and rests her head on Serena’s shoulder. “Too damp.”

“Oh. I’ll scrap the surprise lessons I booked for you birthday then.”

“You didn’t!”

Serena laughs. “No, you’re right, I didn’t.  I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a nice form-hugging wetsuit though.”

“I hear they’re a bugger to get out of,” Bernie says idly, tracing circular patterns on Serena’s thigh.

“Maybe not then.”

For a little while they sit in silence, watching the dancing flames in the fire. It’s so rare, the silence, now. So unusual to get time just for the two of them.

“Did you know, its been a decade?” Serena says after a while.

“Has it?” Bernie scrambles to do the maths. She’s not missed an anniversary before and she’s not about to start now. “I’m sure it hasn’t.” She’s not likely to forget the date of their wedding. Nor any other date that has involved Serena.

“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten,” Serena teases. “Engine been growling or whining?” she says huskily.

“ _Oh_.” Bernie hums. “You were beautiful that day. Cross, but beautiful.”

“We’ve come a long way since then.”

“Yes.” Bernie finds Serena’s hand, links their fingers together. They can talk about it all now, enough distance between them and the pain that threatened to throw them off course in the early days. Like the surfers on the beach, they’ve made their way through the stormy seas and come out safely. “I love you, Serena.” She says it daily, more than daily, because she will never ever be tired of saying it, or bored of the way that Serena lights up and the emotion in her voice when she responds.

Serena kisses her forehead, strokes her hair with her free hand. “I love you too.”


	5. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to batnbreakfast, with apologies for once again stealing her life for my fic.

Serena is in the queue at Pulses when her phone pings.

_Sick_ , the text message from Bernie reads.  _Sorry_ , follows a moment later. Even for Bernie it’s unusually abrupt communication, and since they have been officially dating Bernie has been making a sincere effort on that front.

Serena contemplates the coffee that she dearly would like, then sighs and ducks out of the queue to find a quiet corner.

Bernie answers on the third ring. “S’rena,” she croaks.

“Bernie, what’s wrong?” 

There’s a pause, during which Serena’s mind fires off a number of disastrous scenarios. “Tired,” Bernie says hoarsely. “Throat hurts.”

“Flu?”

“Glands are up. And tonsils.”

Probably not flu then. “Have you made an appointment with your GP?” There’s a little sigh and a snuffle, and quiet. “Bernie? Bernie, are you still there?”

“S’rry. Sleepy.” 

Serena  twists her fingers around her necklace, tugs it as she thinks. It’s probably nothing serious, but on the other hand, a Bernie Wolfe who can barely sustain a telephone conversation without falling asleep is somewhat worrying. “I’m coming round,” she says firmly, and knows its a measure of how bad Bernie is feeling that  she  doesn’t argue.

It takes Bernie an age to answer the front door, and when she does she looks a state. Serena’s heart clenches at the sight of her girlfriend; hair even more dishevelled than usual, a high flush to her cheeks, and wrapped in her duvet. “You’re coming round to mine,” she says firmly.

Bernie wobbles backwards, leans against the wall for support. “Okay.”

Serena eyes her. “You stay here, I’ll go and pack a bag for you.” As she hurries up the stairs she’s aware of Bernie sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

Bernie’s house is sparsely decorated. Less minimalist, more spartan, Serena thinks as she grabs a rucksack out of the cupboard and shoves clothes into it. She’ll never get better staying here, she should be where Serena can look after her.

If she wasn’t worrying before she is now, as she almost carries Bernie out to her waiting car.

“Sorry,” Bernie says as she leans back exhaustedly in the passenger seat, “Being a pain.”

“You’re not,” Serena says firmly.

Bernie is asleep before they reach the end of the road.

At Serena’s house she tucks Bernie carefully into the spare bed, puts out water and painkillers on the bedside table. Bernie’s eyes are almost closed again and she presses a kiss to Bernie’s forehead. “Sleep well love, you’re home now.”

“Home,” Bernie repeats with a sigh.

* * *

The next day Serena manages to make a doctors appointment, comes home half way through her shift to get Bernie to it. Bernie has spent almost the entire time at her house so far asleep, an unnatural flush on her pale cheeks. The short journey to the doctors exhausts her and Serena’s heart clenches as her big macho army medic leans against her, half asleep again, in the waiting room.

The doctor prods Bernie’s glands, stares into her throat and takes her blood. “Probably glandular fever,” she says eventually, “But the blood test will confirm it.”

Serena stares at her. “But that’s what students get.”

“People of other ages can get it too,” the doctor says with a withering look, “And there’s a reason its known as the kissing disease.”

“Haven’t been kissing anyone but you,” Bernie murmurs to Serena, and there’s almost a hint of laughter in her voice.

“I would strongly suggest not doing any kissing until you’re better,” the doctor says as she labels up the blood sample.

“Understood,” Serena nods. It’s not like Bernie’s up to any activities like that anyway. “What’s the best course of action now?”

“Time. Three weeks and you should be recovered.”

“Three weeks?” Bernie squeaks, then winces and puts a hand to her sore throat.

“Well, thank you.” Serena stands and helps Bernie up, nods to the doctor as they leave.

“You’ll stay with me till you’re better.” It’s an instruction, not a request.

“I will,” Bernie says. 

They climb back into the car but before Serena can start the engine Bernie reaches out with a soft, hot hand. “Thank you, Serena. For looking after me. I really appreciate it.”

Serena squeezes her hand tightly. “You’re very welcome. Now come on soldier, lets get you home.”


	6. Restless

It’s a slow day on AAU. Very slow. Serena is grateful for the chance to attack the pile of paperwork that has stacked up on her desk and in her inbox, but Bernie, it seems, is not. Every time Serena glances over at her she’s fiddling with the pens on her desk, tapping her foot impatiently against the floor or just staring vaguely into space. Sometimes when Serena catches her eye she blushes, as though she’s embarrassed to be caught being so restless.

Eventually, Serena puts down her report. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

Bernie is pink to the tips of her ears. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Serena raises her eyebrows sceptically. “You could fool me.”

They stare at each other for a moment. Serena won’t look away, feels a certain triumph when Bernie flushes again and looks down at her desk.

“Would you mind if I went for a run?” she says eventually. “I just need to get some… things out of my system.”

“Might as well have a break while we’re quiet,” Serena says with a nod. “And when you get back you can get on with that paperwork you’ve been ignoring.” She finishes with a wink and Bernie huffs a laugh.

“Yes boss.”

Bernie heads for the door but just before leaves she turns and looks at Serena. Their eyes hold for a moment and Serena’s heart jumps. Bernie smiles, a tiny quirk of her lips, and then slips away.

In Bernie’s absence Serena ploughs on with her paperwork, until an emergency appendectomy case comes in. Serena gets up, stretches and, with something like relief, goes to the locker room to change into her scrubs. She opens the door and stops abruptly. Bernie is standing, back to the room, clad only in sports bra and skin tight running trousers. She can’t tear her eyes away from the long, pale expanse of back on show. She wants to trace her fingers along Bernie’s ribs, trail kisses down her spine. She’s exquisite. Serena gulps audibly and Bernie whirls round, her shirt clutched in her hand.

“Serena!” she says, and there’s that blush again.

“Bernie,” Serena breathes, and try as she might she can’t look away from her.

“I -” Bernie says, and stops.

“You,” Serena tries. “You look...”

“Yes?” Bernie’s voice cracks.

Then the door crashes open again. Morven, unaware of the tension in the room. “Emergency appendectomy,” she says cheerfully to Bernie, “Things are picking up.” 

“I have to – uh, get changed,” Serena says, “Into my scrubs.” 

“Right, of course,” Bernie says. “You should get on.” 

Bernie turns back to her locker and finally Serena is able to move again, changes quicker than she ever has before into her scrubs, distinctly aware of Bernie only a few metres away from her.

The appendectomy goes smoothly and Serena is glad for the chance to focus on something other than paperwork. Or Bernie.

She’s almost hesitant to go back to the office after she’s washed up and changed, not really sure what to do or say. She smiles shyly at Bernie as she sits down, is surprised when Bernie comes and perches on the edge of her desk, their knees almost brushing. She’s sat there before but it feels different now. Everything feels different now. Serena wants to reach out, touch her, pull her in close.

“Everything okay?” she says, instead.

Bernie takes a deep breath and reaches out, touches Serena’s hand gently. Serena’s skin fizzes at the contact and there’s a heaviness to the air.

“I was wondering if you might want to have dinner with me,” Bernie says, very quietly.

“Dinner?” Serena echoes.

“As a,” Bernie looks down briefly, then, determinedly, holds Serena’s gaze. “A date. I wondered if you might like to go on a date. With me.”

“Oh,” Serena says. There’s a moment where her brain scrambles to catch up, and Bernie blinks, begins to pull her hand away. “Wait,” Serena says, grabbing Bernie’s hand before she can retreat completely. “Yes. Yes,” her words tumble out, “Yes, I would like to go on a date with you. Yes, dinner. Yes.”

Bernie’s face lights up, and if Serena had thought her attractive before its nothing to how radiant she looks now. “I know a nice little Italian with an extensive wine list.”

Serena beams. “Tonight?” Then her heart almost stops as Bernie lifts her hand slowly to her mouth, presses a soft kiss to her fingers.

“Okay.”


	7. Bitter

It had been a long, long shift and it was a very tired Serena who sat wearily on her sofa and uncorked a bottle of Shiraz.

“Here you go,” Bernie said and Serena smiled up at her as she placed two wine glasses on the table.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Serena sighed as the wine glugged into her glass. 

“I can see,” Bernie said. She poured her own glass and sat down next to Serena, shoulders and thighs pressed tightly together.

“Cheers,” Serena said, “Here’s to two days off.” She took a long, deep swallow and spluttered instantly. “Corked!” she said bitterly. “It’s corked.” With a groan she thumped her glass down on the table. “I can’t get a break today.”

“Oh Serena, you really have had a bad day, haven’t you,” Bernie said sympathetically. “I’ll go and grab another bottle.”

“That was the last one.” Serena leant gratefully into Bernie’s embrace, blinked furiously to banish childish tears.

“My poor girl,” Bernie said, stroked her fingers through Serena’s greying strands. “What can I do to make it better?”

“Keep doing that,” Serena sighed, enjoying the tingling sensation of Bernie’s fingers against her scalp. “I’m feeling better already.”

Bernie laughed. “Are you saying this is better than Shiraz?”

“ _You’re_ better than Shiraz. I could live without that, I can’t live without you.” Serena twisted in Bernie’s arms to look up at her. “Was that horribly soppy?”

Bernie was silent for a moment. “No.” One hand trailed down Serena’s back, tickling her spine. “I love you too. Come up here.” Bernie tugged slightly and Serena moved willingly, met Bernie’s mouth eagerly. “ Would this be a better end to the day?” Bernie murmured as her hands slipped under Serena’s shirt, caressed the soft skin over her hips.

“Mmm,” Serena hummed as she pushed Bernie gently down and straddled her, “It would indeed. And no need to worry about a hangover.”

“Only sore muscles,” Bernie said with a wink as she deftly unbuttoned Serena’s shirt. 

Serena lowered her head to nip at Bernie’s neck, pulled her belt open as she did so. “You know what’s good for sore muscles? Baths.”

“Sounds like an excellent use of our time off.”

“Doesn’t it. Now stop talking, Major, and kiss me.”


	8. Romp bomp a stomp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena have Guinevere for the weekend and she introduces them to a new tv show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have a problem.

Bernie hung over Serena’s shoulder, peering at the paper she was holding. “That’s a lot of instructions.”

“It’s a schedule for the whole weekend,” Serena said, with only a small sigh. “At least we don’t have to worry about her being out of routine.”

“What’s that?” Bernie pointed at one item. “What’s The Wiggles?”

Serena flicked to the footnotes. “Jason says they’re an Australian singing and dancing group, and we can find two series on Netflix. It’s Guinevere’s favourite tv show at the moment. Oh...”

“Oh, what?”

“Guinevere likes it if everybody dances.”

* * *

“What is this hell?” Bernie murmured in Serena’s ear as four brightly coloured Australians jumped out of an equally bright looking house.

“Guinevere likes it,” Serena said. Guinevere was jumping up and down in front of the television, copying all their moves and wiggling her fingers as the actors did.

Bernie and Serena watched, faintly appalled, as a Camel sang, badly. Then an upbeat song began and Guinevere squealed with joy. “Aunty Serena!” she jumped onto Serena, “Dance with me!”

“Go on then,” Bernie nudged Serena. “Enjoy your romp bomp a stomp.”

* * *

“I’m not sure I can stand much more of the Wiggles,” Bernie said to Serena that night, when they were cuddled in bed at the end of a very tiring day.

“It’s not much more,” Serena said reasonably, “There isn’t much television time on the schedule. And don’t you like seeing Guin so happy?”

“She’s adorable,” Bernie said. She pressed a kiss to Serena’s nose, and then, gently, to her lips. “And so are you. I loved watching you dancing together.”

“I’m sure I used to be fitter,” Serena sighed, “I ache in so many places.”

Bernie grinned, ran one inquisitive finger down Serena’s side to tickle under the edge of her pyjama top. “Fancy aching in some others too?”

* * *

“Good weekend, boss?” Fletch asked as Serena walked onto AAU.

“Not bad. We had Guinevere for the weekend.”

“Bernie looked tired this morning,” Fletch said.

Serena pointedly ignored what he was implying. “Well, you know what it’s like running around after a toddler. Fun, but exhausting.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Preaching to the choir, aren’t I? I’d better get on. Is Bernie around?”

“In the office.”

* * *

The door to their office was slightly open and Serena leant against the door frame for a moment, enjoying the sight of Bernie at her desk, head down, tousled hair all over the place and… humming?

A grin spread over Serena’s face.

Bernie’s hum changed into words. “And fruit salad too,” she sang to herself.

“Hello Bernie.” Serena pushed the door closed behind her. “You’re singing.”

Bernie flushed. “I’m not!”

Serena laughed. “You are.”

Bernie threw her pen down. “It’s not my fault! They’re so… annoyingly catchy! I don’t like them! I just can’t get them out of my head!”

“It could be worse.”

“Could it?”

Serena dropped her bag onto her desk and held out her hands to Bernie, who stood up and took them, warily. “We could do the propeller!”

Bernie dropped her hands. “No! I won’t!”

“But you were so sweet, dancing it with Guin.”

Bernie ducked under Serena’s flailing arms. “I won’t!”

* * *

On the ward, Raf and Fletch gazed wonderingly into their consultants’ office.

“Do you think they know the blinds are open?” Raf said, as they watched Serena prance around the office.

“Do you think she’s going to catch Bernie?” Fletch asked.

“She has now. It’s quite sweet, in a way.” They watched as Serena twirled Bernie round.

“Sweet it may be, but there’s work to do and somebody has got to do it.”

They both sighed as Serena twirled Bernie round again. “Looks like that somebody is us,” Raf said.


End file.
